


took the breath from my open mouth

by lallemanting



Series: tumblr prompts [3]
Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eventual Fluff, Future Fic, Getting Back Together, M/M, Miscommunication, Pining, Post-Break Up, Prompt Fill, but it all gets better, lucas is a sad boy for a while
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-10-13 07:24:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20578718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lallemanting/pseuds/lallemanting
Summary: It doesn’t happen how Lucas thought it might. Seeing him again. He’d thought about it a lot in the months directly after they ended things – what he’d be doing, where it would happen, how he would act. He’d even rehearsed a few speeches or at least plausible conversations. He forgot to account for his racing heart.or, for the prompts: “Please don’t walk out of that door,” “Why are you crying?,” & “You’ve been drinking tonight, haven’t you?”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> title is from ["anchor"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OmKAn8rNbKg) by novo amor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ([here](https://lallemanting.tumblr.com/post/187598549071/hi-if-its-okay-with-you-may-i-ask-for-3-48-71) is the tumblr post for anyone who prefers to read on there)

**** It doesn’t happen how Lucas thought it might. Seeing him again. He’d thought about it a lot in the months directly after they ended things – what he’d be doing, where it would happen, how he would act. He’d even rehearsed a few speeches or at least plausible conversations. He forgot to account for his racing heart.

When it happens, it’s in the last place Lucas had ever imagined. It’s not at the grocery store, or at a cafe. It’s not even just a chance encounter on the street. It’s at a restaurant, at his boyfriend’s fancy work party.

Lucas isn’t quite sure how he ended up here, standing there in that restaurant. He knows that Oliver had made him promise weeks ago to be here, convinced that showing up with his boyfriend would help him seem more serious to his bosses, which might lead to some kind of promotion. At the time Lucas had been more than happy to say yes. It made Oliver happy, and making Oliver happy made Lucas feel good. It was enough.

But he’s had a long week and there’s a dull ache just behind his temples and he’s tired. He hasn’t really been sleeping well again. It’s like it was a year ago, when everything imploded. He pushes the thought out of mind quickly before it can consume him again.

Lucas had considered feigning some kind of illness earlier that day to avoid having to come at all, but then he thought of Oliver’s sweet face and how accommodating he would have been and it felt a little too much like he was taking advantage. So Lucas had come home from class, gotten dressed and made an appearance. It was for his boyfriend after all.

But he’s uncomfortable – his shirt and jacket are tight against his body making him very conscious of the sweat gathering at his back and his tie is pressing tightly against his throat. He pulls at it with one hand, holding his drink in the other. Even though it’s winter, just towards the end of January, Lucas is hot and the room feels suffocating. So Lucas sticks to the edge of the room, content to just watch the party unfold around him rather than participate himself.

He looks out across the crowded room and spots Oliver talking to someone he assumes is important – probably his boss. He knows he should go over and join the conversation, play the part of the supportive boyfriend, but frankly, that just sounds exhausting. Instead he leans back against the wall, feeling the cool brick against the back on his head.

He’s looking across the party but not really seeing, people fading into shapes and colors, the air around them dancing with the buzz of conversation. Lucas allows himself to be pulled by the loud sounds coming from the other side of the wall. The party is being held in a semi-private section of the restaurant that Oliver’s company has rented out, but the rest of the space is filled with families and first dates and friends getting together after work. Lucas drifts over to the booths that separate their space from the rest of the restaurant. And he allows his mind and eyes to wander.

He’s content to do that until Oliver is ready to head out. He actually sort of prefers the soothing hum of other people living their lives as he fights his fatigue and the headache that threatens to get worse. 

But then his heart drops to his stomach, his pulse quickens and he forgets how to breathe. It takes a second for his brain to catch up with what’s in front of him. 

Because there’s Eliott –  _ Eliott  _ – sitting at a table with people Lucas doesn’t recognize and he looks almost the same as when Lucas saw him last, almost a year ago. 

He’s wearing all black and Lucas feels his eyes rake over him because he can’t help it – it’s like he’s seen a ghost – and his eyes land on the black jacket hanging on Eliott’s chair. And Lucas almost loses it right there, in the middle of a busy restaurant on a Friday evening in the dead of winter.

Because the last time Lucas had seen that jacket was when he’d handed it over to Eliott a week after their breakup. Eliott had come by to drop off the last of Lucas’ stuff and then he disappeared from his life with a whispered  _ bye Lucas _ and the black jacket slung over his shoulder.

Lucas stands frozen to the spot, unable to tear his eyes away from Eliott but panicking at the thought that Eliott might look up and see him. He simultaneously wants to disappear, melt into the floor and vanish, and scream Eliott’s name as loud as he can muster, forcing Eliott to  _ see  _ him and acknowledge what they used to be to one another. It’s that battle, between fight or flight, that keeps him rooted to the floor.

In the end, Lucas doesn’t make up his mind fast enough because there’s a crash behind him as a waiter drops a stack of dishes and Eliott whips his head up to seek out the source of the noise. His eyes meet Lucas’ and something flashes across Eliott’s face that Lucas can’t quite place.

Lucas feels his eyes go wide and he contemplates spinning on his heel and running back to Oliver, disappearing into the crowd. But Eliott is leaning over to the people he’s with and saying something Lucas can’t quite make out. Then he’s standing and Lucas realizes a beat too late that Eliott is making his way over to him. 

Lucas quickly turns behind him, finding Oliver in the back corner still in deep conversation with his boss. There’s a slight wave of relief because the last thing Lucas needs right now is Oliver being involved in whatever conversation is about to occur. He steps around the rope that the restaurant had put up to separate their private space from the rest of the customers and moves to meet Eliott by the wall that leads to the bathrooms.

It’s strange, really, how utterly unprepared Lucas feels in that moment. Despite the hours and sleepless nights he had dedicated to imagining how this would go, there’s nothing that can prepare him for how it feels to have Eliott standing there in front of him again. 

He approaches Lucas with his head down, shoulders hunched, and hands stuffed into the pockets of his worn black jeans. And so when it happens – when that moment that Lucas has thought about for months happens – it’s at the wall between the toilets and the kitchens at 9pm on a Friday in a crowded restaurant. 

Lucas had prepared speeches, he’d imagined a thousand times what he would say if he ever got the chance to stand in front of Eliott again, but when the moment comes, his mouth goes dry and his mind goes blank and he’s quiet. 

Because it’s Eliott. Eliott with his ink-stained hands, and black jacket and messy hair. Lucas wonders if he still smells like sandalwood and his lavender shampoo. He wonders who the people he’s sitting with are. Lucas wonders if he got into art school, if he moved into a new place, if he’s...well, if he’s seeing anyone. And then Lucas thinks he shouldn’t be wondering about any of that. Because Eliott isn’t his to wonder about anymore. He hasn’t been, for a  _ year _ . And Lucas has Oliver. So it should be fine.

They stand there in silence for what must only be a few seconds but to Lucas feels like years, the thrum of others’ conversations pounding in his ear. He can’t even bring himself to meet Eliott’s eyes and instead he finds his gaze flitting between Eliott’s face and the space just behind his shoulder.

It’s Eliott who speaks first.

“Hey.” 

Hey.  _ Hey _ . Lucas feels a slight twist of anger in his chest. Because it’s ‘ _ hey’ _ – one word and no attempt at conversation and Lucas feels like he wants to scream at Eliott because there were so many things he wanted to say and they used to be more than that. They used to be everything.

A year ago Eliott knew him better than anyone else in the world. Now, in that one word, Lucas sees how they will finally end – be rid of each other for good – with half-hearted greetings and a lingering discomfort that makes them seem more like casual acquaintances than first loves.

“How are you?” Lucas manages to say back. Eliott sways slightly, his hands still in his pockets.

“Yeah, I’m good,” he says. “How are you?”

_ I was doing fine and then I saw you again _ , Lucas thinks.

“Oh, I’m great,” Lucas says.

“Good, good,” Eliott says, removing one of his hands from his pockets and running it through his hair. Lucas swallows. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, um, it’s a work party,” Lucas says, and he doesn’t want to elaborate, not really, because he can’t bring himself to say  _ for my boyfriend _ to Eliott when the  _ boyfriend _ isn’t him.

“Oh, cool.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Oh you know, here with friends.”

And there it is, the limit of their conversation, the limit of what they can muster in this new space of used-to-be. There’s a beat and Lucas looks up to find Eliott staring at him. It’s a look that’s a little too familiar and Lucas sudden feels his heart swell involuntarily. “You look good,” Eliott whispers.

And Lucas doesn’t know what to say to that because he wants to say that Eliott looks good too, but that kind of quiet familiarity might actually kill him. So he just nods. “Thanks.”

Eliott makes no move to leave and Lucas is left wondering how exactly to exit this interaction quickly because it’s starting to be too much, too much. Eliott looks like he’s battling the thoughts in his head and he opens his mouth to say something. A pause and then: “Look, Lucas...”

But that’s all he gets out because then Lucas feels an arm slide around his waist and he turns to find Oliver standing there, looking Eliott up and down with a slightly concerned expression on his face. Eliott is taller than Oliver, but in this moment, at the sight of Oliver’s arm wrapped around Lucas’ waist, Eliott seems to shrink.

“Hey babe,” Oliver says, pressing a kiss to Lucas’ temple. “Missed you in there. Wanted to see where you got off to.”

Eliott is standing stiff and his jaw is set tight and Lucas feels the shame of being caught begin to spread across his chest (though he can’t quite decide if it’s Eliott or Oliver he feels more caught by).

Lucas feels an urge to reach out and grab Eliott’s face and smooth the crease of his brow that’s appeared with Oliver. He’s surprised at how violent the urge is, even now, after all this time. 

“Hey,” Lucas says to Oliver and then gestures towards Eliott. “I ran into Eliott, so we were just, uh, catching up.”

“Eliott,” is all Oliver says but Lucas knows he immediately recognizes the name. Lucas had told Oliver about Eliott fairly early on, not because he really wanted to, but because he had to. Eliott had been his whole story up until that point and Lucas felt Oliver deserved to know.

Oliver gives Lucas a look then, and Lucas is brought back to the situation in front of him, his worst-case-scenario for how this could have played out really, and realizes Oliver is waiting for him to introduce them. It’s bizarre and Lucas hates it but he knows he should, so he does.

“Oliver, this is Eliott. Eliott, this is Oliver,” Lucas says.

Oliver sticks out his hand towards Eliott and adds “his boyfriend.”

Eliott clenches his jaw tighter at the words but reaches his hand out to shake Oliver’s. 

“Nice to meet you,” Eliott says.

“Nice to meet you as well,” Oliver says. 

There’s silence then, drenched in awkwardness. Lucas wants to disappear. 

“Well, um, I should be getting back to my friends,” Eliott says. “Good to meet you Oliver and um, it’s good to see you Lucas. Really.”

With those words, Eliott’s voice grows slightly softer and he gives Lucas a once over, meeting his eyes for a beat, only a beat, but Lucas’ heart skips. And then he’s gone.

Lucas is staring at the spot Eliott had just occupied and he notices that Oliver is looking at him. “You okay, babe?” he asks and Lucas finds it in himself to give a sharp nod.

“Yeah, let’s get back to the party.”

–– 

It’s a few weeks later and Lucas is trying to get back to normal. Or at least what had been his new normal in the wake of Eliott. He’s trying, he really is, to push Eliott out of his mind, focus on all the good things he does have, the life he built in the wake of their collapse. But it’s hard when he sees Eliott everywhere in all the things that used to remind him of Eliott, blaring loudly like symbols of what he lost.

He sees Eliott in the lattes the people next to him order. He sees him in a tattered notebook on a table, in the people sketching in the park, in the box of tea Eliott had bought once when he was sick that’s sat collecting dust in Lucas’ cupboard since he left. But mostly he sees him in tall strangers with messy hair and black jackets and every time he spots one his heart leaps into his throat. Until Lucas realizes it isn’t him, it’s never him.

And now it’s another Friday night and he finds himself at a party with his friends and Oliver by his side and he really just wants to be in bed, but he’s gotten better at putting on the mask when he feels like this. He doesn’t want them to worry.

The party has been going on for a few hours and all of his friends are around him, drunk but fairly in control compared to what he’s used to. Emma is leaning sloppily on Daphne’s shoulder as she tries to continue dancing to the music. Arthur and Basile are yelling frantically about something Lucas had tuned out a while ago. Yann and Oliver are standing next to him dancing and trying to speak above the music. And Lucas is standing there, nursing his beer, unable to get himself to really join the fun. 

He knows that Oliver has noticed. Yann too. But Lucas realizes gratefully that they seem to be giving him the night off. Because he can’t talk about it, he really can’t.

So it’s unfortunate then, that it happens again like this, on a Friday night at the end of winter at a party where everyone is having fun but him. Because Lucas sees him again.

Only this time Eliott doesn’t see him.

Lucas hadn’t noticed him come in, and really, it’s the worst possible way this could have gone down. Because when Lucas does notice him, when he sees Eliott for the second time in a month, some guy has Eliott pinned in the corner, his tongue down his throat.

Lucas thinks he might be sick. And suddenly, he can’t be here anymore. He really can’t be here, he can’t face  _ that _ . He tugs on Oliver’s shirtsleeve, getting his attention and whispers a frantic  _ can we get out of here, please  _ and Oliver is looking at him with those concerned, kind eyes, and he nods.

So they leave. Lucas tries his best to keep it in, to sew up the ragged tear that sight had made in his chest, and he really should be good at it with all these months of practice. But as soon as they’re in a cab on the way back to Lucas’ apartment, the tears start to fall. 

He turns, looking out the window, trying to hide his face, willing the tears to stop before they have to get out of the car. Oliver doesn’t say anything – just finds Lucas’ hand and gently strokes the back of it with his thumb.

When they get to his apartment, Lucas tries to quickly dry his face and compose himself as he unlocks the door. Lucas notices that Mika’s shoes are gone and Lisa is out of town this weekend with her family. He knows that Oliver notices too. 

So the atmosphere in the empty apartment should be different. So different from the somber concern that’s radiating off Oliver in waves. And Lucas is trying to hold it in, but it’s not working.

“Lucas, why are you crying?” Oliver asks softly, reaching to wipe a tear off Lucas’ cheek. Lucas flinches away from his touch.

“It’s nothing,” Lucas answers, quickly, too quickly and Oliver only sighs and sits down on the couch, leaving room like an invitation for Lucas to join him.

“That’s clearly not true,” Oliver says. “You’ve been quiet all night and now something made you upset. I just want to know what happened.”

Lucas’ mouth clamps shut and he can’t talk about it, can’t tell the truth. Because if he gives voice to the emotions he’s feeling right now, if he airs them out where they can be heard, then he’ll have the acknowledge the way his heart still raced when he saw Eliott, even a year later. That his heart felt like it broke again at the sight of him kissing someone else. And he knows that shouldn’t be the case.

But now Oliver is looking at him, peering into his eyes and trying to decipher what might be the problem, what it could be that is so clearly bothering Lucas. What had made him so upset that he practically dragged Oliver from the party without so much as a goodbye to anyone else.

Lucas knows he’s going to have to tell him, is going to have to say  _ it’s Eliott, I saw Eliott again _ and that’s not going to go over well. Because it shouldn’t have affected him so much. It’s been a year since they broke up, a  _ year _ , and it shouldn’t hurt so much anymore. But it does.

Lucas knows he has to say that and he knows that when he does it will hurt Oliver. Gentle, sweet, perfect Oliver who has done nothing but be there for Lucas. Oliver, whose only flaw is he isn’t Eliott.

The thought jolts Lucas back to his apartment with Oliver sitting there, looking at him. The silence hangs thick and Lucas tentatively makes his way closer to Oliver, thinking about sitting next to him on the couch, holding his hands, stroking his cheek with his finger while he talks to him. But Lucas knows he can’t do that, not really. He sits on the chair instead.

“It’s Eliott. I saw him again.” And then it’s out there. Lucas is hit, for a moment, with how small this thing is, how much it shouldn’t be bothering him, how much it’s thrown him despite it being two quick moments over a month. But it’s Eliott.

“Eliott, your ex.  _ The _ ex,” Oliver says, his voice soft.

He’d told Oliver about Eliott in the first few weeks that they started dating, wanting him to know Lucas’ past, know about the intensity Lucas had been coming from. Oliver had been surprisingly understanding about it but Lucas hadn’t told him much – just that they’d been together for a long time and he’d taken it pretty hard when it ended. That was all he could get himself to divulge. And now he’d been with Oliver for a little over three months and that should feel solid. But talking about Eliott with Oliver is shaky ground.

And something is bothering Lucas, but it’s not what he expected it to be. Oliver is looking at him sympathetically, too sympathetically, like he’s going to be understanding and sweet about the pain that comes with seeing someone again who used to be such an important person in your life. Lucas knows he could nod and Oliver wouldn’t ask him about it and they could move on, but his brain is stuck on the words.  _ The ex _ .

_ The ex _ . To hear his and Eliott’s relationship reduced down to that. Two words. Not even a sentence. They’d been together for two years – two years where Lucas had found a family, reconnected with his mother, graduated from high school, started college, and experienced his first love (and at the end, his first heartbreak). Eliott had been there through it all, knew him better than anyone else and now, sitting here a year out, their relationship was only that.  _ The ex _ .

Lucas sighs and fights back a fresh wave of tears. It’s so stupid, to be here a year later and still crying over Eliott. He thought he’d left that behind months ago. He looks up and wills the tears not to fall. He meets Oliver’s eyes and can tell he’s trying to assess the situation, figure out what Lucas needs, how to help him. For some reason, Lucas feels irritation run through his body. 

They’re quiet for a while. Lucas is looking around his empty living room, noting the mess, the tattered couch and chairs, the DVD he hadn’t put away, the wind making the curtains flutter, the light from the lamp casting a sideways glow on the wall. Oliver and his shadows grow large on the wall and make Lucas feel small. He wants to shrink, hide in the darkness they provide. But he knows he has to be honest if he wants his heart to stop feeling like a lead weight in his chest. 

“What happened?” Oliver’s voice is soft, too soft. Lucas hadn’t realized the tears had started to roll down his cheeks. He wipes them away quickly with the back of his hand.

“He was at the party. He was kissing someone,” Lucas says and Oliver’s face hardens. 

“He was kissing someone,” Oliver repeats and then he stands from the couch and walks towards the window, his back to Lucas. “So that’s what’s bothering you?”

“What?” 

“That he was kissing someone else,” Oliver says and he turns around again to look at Lucas. “That’s the thing that’s bothering you, that made you so upset you had to leave the party?”

And yeah, when you put it like that, Lucas knows it doesn’t sound great. Because it shouldn’t bother him that much – Lucas is literally dating someone else. But it was so unsettling to see Eliott with someone who wasn’t him.

“I just wasn’t expecting to see him,” Lucas says lamely. 

“Yeah I know,” Oliver says. “But you’re gonna run into him sometimes and this, the way you’re acting? It’s like it’s still fresh.”

It had still been fresh when Oliver and Lucas met. And maybe that’s ridiculous because it had been almost ten months at that point but it had taken Lucas six months to even contemplate looking at other people and another three getting the first few first-kisses-that-weren’t-Eliott out of his system. So when Oliver and he met, it had still felt fresh to Lucas. It was the first time Lucas had felt like maybe he could date someone else. 

“It hasn’t been that long,” Lucas whispers because he doesn’t know what else to say, how else to justify his behavior. 

“I mean, it’s been a year. That’s a while Lucas.” Oliver’s voice sounds sharper and when Lucas looks up Oliver’s jaw is set tight, his teeth clenched and he’s looking down at his hands.

“I’m sorry,” Lucas says. “I can’t help it.”

Oliver sighs. “You’re acting like he broke up with you last week, Lucas. I mean, I get being a little thrown, but is this going to happen every time you see him? Shouldn’t you be over it by now?”

And that’s not fair, not really. Because this is Eliott they’re talking about and he’s, well he was Lucas’ first love, and it ended abruptly and Lucas had been confused, so confused because he’d stopped imagining a future without Eliott in it, and then suddenly he had to live in one.

“It’s complicated,” Lucas says, because he doesn’t know how else to explain.

Oliver is looking at him then, his eyes sad, and he sighs. “I don’t think it is. I think you’re still in love with him.”

It’s not a question. Lucas still tries to protest. 

“With Eliott? I’m not...I mean I can’t…” He’s not convincing. 

Oliver shakes his head. “Or at least you haven’t found a way to move on. And that’s okay Lucas, it takes time, but that’s not fair to me.”

Lucas says nothing because he can’t. He wouldn’t know what to say.

Oliver takes a deep breath and looks like he’s choosing his next words carefully. “Lucas, if you wanted to be with me, you would have had your moment to process and moved on. And, as I think we can both tell, that’s not the case.”

Lucas tries to think of something that will turn this conversation around, turn it back to the way they normally talk – gentle and kind. Nice. Lucas can do nice. “But I do want to be with you,” he tries.

“No,” Oliver says gently. “No you don’t.”

They sit in the quiet for a moment and Oliver looks at Lucas and gives him a weak smile. 

“You know you never told me why you two broke up,” Oliver says and okay, Lucas was not expecting that.

Lucas thinks that it’s probably because he doesn’t really know himself. “It just sort of happened,” Lucas says. “And by the time I realized it, I was too scared of the answer to ask.”

Oliver nods. “Well, that might be the problem. You’re holding onto it because you want answers.”

And Lucas has never thought of it that way but maybe Oliver is right. He’s quiet, thinking it over.

“I think I should go,” Oliver says and Lucas jumps up.

“No, Oliver, please,” Lucas goes over to him, tries to touch his arm but Oliver flinches away. 

“I can’t be with you if you’re in love with someone else,” Oliver says. “That isn’t fair.”

There it is. Those words again. Lucas doesn’t know what to say but he tries anyway.

“Stay, please.”

“I can’t.” Oliver reaches out and gently grasps both sides of Lucas’ face, looking at him intently. “You haven’t denied it, you know, which just makes it feel true. So I’m going to ask you once, just for the record – are you still in love with Eliott?”

Lucas should be able to say no. Say no and Oliver stays and his life goes back to the way it was. Neat and clean and nice. Nice. There’s nothing wrong with nice. Just say no, he’s not still in love with Eliott and it’s over. 

But, for some reason, he can’t bring himself to say it.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know,” Oliver repeats and drops his hands from Lucas’ face. “I can’t do this, Lucas.”

Lucas watches as Oliver walks neatly around him and towards the entryway pulling on his coat as he goes.

“Please don’t walk out that door,” Lucas pleads as Oliver reaches it. He’s not sure he can do that again: the silence, the loneliness. He was good at being alone before Eliott. Eliott ruined that for him forever.

Oliver turns suddenly and makes his way over to Lucas leaning in and gently kissing him on the cheek. 

“Goodbye Lucas,” he whispers. “I hope you figure it out.” And then he’s gone with a rushed step and a slamming door.

And Lucas is alone again. 

–– 

The next time it happens, the next time Lucas talks to Eliott, is later that night and it’s because Lucas seeks him out. And it’s with help from the vodka he found stashed in the bottom of his closet away from Mika’s greedy hands.

When Oliver leaves, Lucas finds the bottle and crashes to the floor, his back propped up against his bed as the hot tears he’s been trying to hold back for the past few hours begin to fall.

He brings the bottle to his lips and takes a long drink, reveling in the burning feeling as the alcohol hits his throat. He takes two more swigs in quick succession, and then sits there, bottle close to his side.

_ Stupid Oliver, _ he thinks.  _ With his stupid ideas about Lucas, and his deciding to break up with Lucas because of Eliott. And oh, perfect stupid Eliott with his dumb messy hair and ink-stained hands and his perfect face and that stupid boy who had walked out of his life and left a gaping hole in his chest and hadn’t told him why... _

The warmth from the alcohol has started making its way up Lucas’ legs and into his thoughts, making everything fuzzy and more distant. Normally things hurt less here. And yet, Lucas thinks, bringing a hand up to his chest and feeling for the heart that should be beating there, the dull ache that has been there since Eliott left (that hasn’t gone away, just become something he learned to live with) is more pronounced now that it has a name.

Love. Lucas had managed to convince himself it was gone, that part of his life was over, but Oliver knew better. His stupid heart is still in love with Eliott. Even thinking his name makes his heart beat faster. Eliott. Lucas takes another drink.

Somewhere in the haze of alcohol and the darkness setting over the city, Lucas has a thought. Just a thought at first, but his alcohol-soaked brain latches onto it (though Lucas can’t be sure it’s not actually his heart calling the shots) and won’t let go.

He stumbles out into the hallway, pulling on his shoes and his jacket, grabbing a scarf to be safe. He laughs when he realizes it’s  _ the  _ scarf. Yann had eventually stopped asking for it back and Eliott had always said it looked good on him. Lucas has been so blind really. It’s been a year and he even kept the fucking scarf because Eliott said once that Lucas looked good in it.

But when he throws open the apartment door into the night, it’s snowing heavily, too heavily for a February night. Lucas can’t help but laugh a little bitterly. It had been snowing that day last January too, right after the start of the new term, when he and Eliott decided to part ways, call it quits, break up. He’d told himself it was a mutual decision but he’d never been able to look at snow quite the same way again.

It’s just, he’s never really understood why he and Eliott broke up. It had been a hard year, sure, and Lucas’ first semester at university had been stressful for them both. It was a lot, it was always a lot, but Lucas never thought it’d be too much. 

It’s just that Eliott had kept looking at him like he was waiting for something to snap and Eliott had been good for so long and Lucas had been looking for a sign that something was going wrong, but there wasn’t anything to point to, nothing to name.

Christmas and New Year’s had been good, sure, but after the forced magic of the holidays, things felt flat. They fought here and there, just bickering and apologizing and doing it all over again. And then Eliott had looked at him one day as they sat on his couch having not spoken in the two hours they had been sitting there and he’d said the words Lucas had been dreading:  _ I think we should break up _ . 

Lucas hadn’t had the strength to fight it. He’d simply said  _ okay _ and looked out the window, watching the snow swirl in the streets and feeling a new chill invade his body. 

Thirteen months and four days. That’s how long it’s been since they broke up. He keeps saying a year because he knows that people don’t care for specifics. But Lucas does and he knows. He always knows.

The harsh slap of the cold sobers Lucas up just enough to realize that he can’t go out in this, can’t stumble drunk around Paris in the middle of the night just to go to him. So he heads back inside and does the next best thing. Laying in the middle of his bedroom, scarf still wrapped around his neck, Lucas presses a button and puts the phone to his ear.

It rings and for a minute Lucas thinks he won’t pick up. Or it’s too late and he’s asleep and then Lucas is regretting this decision and almost ends the call. But then he hears his voice.

“Lucas,” Eliott says. And then: “Do you know what time it is?”

Lucas does not. It assumes he’s late but the vodka had blurred the hours together.

“Why are you calling?” Eliott asks. 

“I needed to talk to you,” Lucas says, because it’s true. It’s been true since last January. It’s been true for thirteen months.

Eliott is silent on the other end of the line and then Lucas hears him sigh. “You’ve been drinking tonight, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” Lucas says, because he needs to be honest for once. It’s time to start being honest. “But I do need to talk to you.” And then it all comes out in a rush because Lucas can’t hold it in any longer. “I need to know why we broke up. Why you broke up with me, why you left. I thought I was doing better and then I saw you and it all came back. And I need to know what went wrong. What  _ I  _ did wrong.”

It’s quiet on the line and all Lucas can hear is the sound of Eliott’s breathing. Finally Eliott speaks and his voice sounds thin and ragged.

“Oh Lucas,” Eliott says. “It’s not like that.” A pause. “I think we need to talk. But not tonight. And not over the phone.”

“Okay.” Lucas feels a little nauseous.

“I’ll text you in the morning,” Eliott says. And then: “Goodnight, Lucas.”

Lucas can barely breathe and by the time he can bring himself to speak the line is already dead. But he whispers it anyway: “Goodnight, Eliott.”

And somehow he falls asleep like that – curled up on the floor, wrapped in his scarf, clutching his phone to his chest, with the promise of seeing Eliott again enough to let his fatigue overtake him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm really sorry for leaving it like this but um, it's gonna get better? so stay tuned.
> 
> i'm on tumblr [@lallemanting](https://lallemanting.tumblr.com/) come say hi!
> 
> as always, kudos and comments are much appreciated!! <3


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ([here](https://lallemanting.tumblr.com/post/187819871491/took-the-breath-from-my-open-mouth-22-part-2-of) is the tumblr post for anyone who prefers to read on there)

Lucas wakes up on the floor to a sour taste in his mouth and weight in his gut that sends him running from the ground to the toilet. Even after he’s emptied the contents of his stomach, the weight lingers and then the memories flood in.

Oliver leaving. Vodka. A phone call. _ Eliott _.

Lucas turns back to the toilet and retches again.

Fuck he called Eliott. He got drunk and called Eliott. What a fucking cliché. Then their conversation floods back too. Lucas can hear Eliott’s soft voice, laced with concern and confusion and frustration. _ I think we need to talk _. 

Lucas can’t hold back the joyless laugh that escape his throat. Talk, yeah. He needed to talk thirteen months ago, but Eliott left before they could have that conversation.

And then, _ I’ll text you in the morning _.

Lucas thinks of his phone, probably thrown aimlessly somewhere in his room and wonders if there’s a message from Eliott waiting. He’s not sure he can bring himself to look.

He sits on the cold tile floor of the bathroom for a few minutes, letting the coolness seep into his sweating skin. He throws up again, for good measure, flushing away the last traces of alcohol. But the tightness in this stomach remains, and Lucas knows it’s not from vodka.

He peels himself off the ground and turns on the shower, eager to be rid of the grime that clings to him – the remnants of the party, the alcohol, his own guilt. He steps under the scorching spray and tries to wash it all off.

When Lucas emerges from the bathroom, he checks the time on the oven. It’s only 11:30 and Lucas feels a little impressed that’s he’s already up and showered, reminding himself it was probably past 2am when he called Eliott. He makes his way into the kitchen and fills a glass with water, downing it with some aspirin, hoping that it takes the pounding in his head away. 

But the pain is a good distraction from the mess he’s made.

He returns to his room and sees the scarf that’d he torn from his neck when he woke up strewn across his floor. Next to it, his phone lies face down, taunting him. Lucas looks away, pulling on a clean pair of boxers and a t-shirt and pulls his covers back as he climbs into bed. He’ll try and deal with that again in a few hours.

But as he lays there, willing sleep to take over, to make him forget everything for a few more hours, all he can think about is his phone, lying on the floor across the room. And Eliott. 

Always Eliott.

He lies there for a few more minutes, trying to convince himself he’s going to fall asleep, somehow halt the pounding of his heart, alleviate the weight in his stomach, enough to drift off. But soon it becomes clear that’s not possible. 

He pulls back the duvet, legs swinging, feet meeting the floor, and he walks cautiously, as if someone can see him giving up so easily, being pulled to his phone. To Eliott.

And then he’s leaning down and picking it up, clicking the button to make it come to life. He drops it, like it’s been taken red-hot from a fire, and then leans down and picks it up again.

There, bold and proud on the screen, is a message. And he shouldn’t be surprised, because Eliott had said he’d text him. But Lucas had learned a year ago that he couldn’t trust anything that came out of Eliott’s mouth. Except, apparently, this.

**DO NOT ANSWER (10:15):**

_ Hey. Hope you’re feeling okay this morning :) If you’re still up for it, I’d like to meet. When are you free? _

––

It’s Thursday – nearly five days later – before Lucas can bring himself to respond. When he’d first read the message, he’d had to lock his phone and set it down far away from him for several hours, too anxious to even think about a response.

Then the guilt at not responding had started. Every time Lucas opened his messages, seeing Eliott’s text would send a jolt of panic through him. He knows it’s a little unfair that he’s ignoring Eliott since he was the one who called him in the first place, but now that he’s sober and has had a few days to think things over, he’s not sure he wants to hear what Eliott has to say.

And it’s because, as Oliver had so astutely noticed, Lucas has been harboring a hope, has been living in a cloud of denial for the past year. He’d try and convince himself that he was over Eliott, but that pain in his chest has never really gone away. The ache remained, becoming duller and easier to live with, but an ache all the same. 

And now that he’s let himself think about it, Lucas knows he’s in trouble. Because if Eliott so much as gives him a sign that he might not be over Lucas, Lucas would never be able to let go. 

But it also means that if Eliott has moved on, is actually over Lucas, his heart might officially crumble, leaving Lucas to face an even greater pain. It’s these thoughts that don’t seem to rest that make Lucas freeze every time he begins to type out a response to Eliott’s text.

It’s hard too, not knowing what’s going through Eliott’s head, when Lucas used to know him better than anyone.

But on Thursday Lucas finds himself standing in front of Yann’s apartment, banging on the door frantically. The scarf is wrapped tightly around his neck and his cheeks are red with cold. But his mind is so wrapped up in the message on his phone that he didn’t even feel the frigid air biting at his skin as he ran through the city. He hears shuffling around and then Yann opens the door, raising an eyebrow when he sees Lucas.

“Hey, can I come in?” Lucas asks, but he doesn’t wait for the answer, pushing past Yann and rushing into the apartment. He doesn’t stop until he reaches the sofa and then he sinks into the cushions, hiding his face in his hands. “It’s Eliott,” he moans.

“Eliott?” Yann asks and then he sighs. The air hangs heavy as he waits for an explanation. Lucas knows it’s because they’ve been here a thousand times before, that Yann is the only person who’s seen almost all the tears he’s spilled over Eliott. Maybe then, he’ll understand. 

“It’s just–” Lucas begins, and then he’s launching into an explanation of everything that’s been going on in the past month. Seeing Eliott at the restaurant, not being able to get him out of his head, seeing him again at the party, Oliver breaking up with him (and Lucas not really caring), and drunkenly calling Eliott. He’d kept it all to himself, afraid to bring up Eliott again with his friends, afraid of the way they’d look at him if they heard he was still hung up on his ex a year later. Afraid of what they might say.

But now, Lucas needs help. He needs someone who can help him figure out what to do, can help him decide what happens next, because his brain can’t seem to settle down and think and his heart hasn’t stopped racing since his eyes met Eliott’s across that restaurant. 

When Lucas finishes talking, Yann is there just looking at him, like he’s taking the time to actually process everything Lucas said. Lucas feels his trepidation at spilling everything to Yann fade away as his best friend smiles at him, a little sad, a little concerned.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” Yann asks.

“I didn’t know what to say.” And it’s true, Lucas doesn’t know how to fit this in his mind, how to understand how a chance encounter a month ago has sent him spiraling. Yann seems to understand and he just nods. 

“Do you want to see him?” And there it is, behind his words, Yann’s knowledge of everything that happened, of everything Eliott put him through. Yann was the person who held Lucas as he cried when Eliott left. He was the person who helped him try and move on, who’d changed Eliott’s contact in his phone to a reminder that the past should stay in the past.

“Do you think I should?” Lucas’ voice is small because suddenly he’s realizing just how much he wants to see Eliott, how much he craves him, how agonizing that hole in his heart has become. And he wants Yann to tell him it’s okay to listen to that part of himself. But he also knows Yann would do anything to avoid Lucas getting hurt again. So maybe, for once, he’ll get the truth from someone.

“I think you need to.”

Lucas feels his mouth fall open a little because he hadn’t been expecting that – at least, not from Yann. Throughout this whole ordeal, Yann had always been the person encouraging Lucas to move on, to not let Eliott hold him back when he’s the one who walked away. 

“I think you need to hear what he has to say,” Yann is saying, and the blood is rushing in Lucas’ ears because this is really happening. “And...I think there are some things you want to say to him.”

And Yann is right, of course he is. There are things Lucas has been dying to say for months, from the moment that stupid suggestion left Eliott’s mouth. When the only thing that came out was _ okay _.

“I think it will help you finally start healing,” Yann says. “Or...well, figure out another way forward.”

Lucas doesn’t quite know what Yann means, but Yann is looking at him like he should and Lucas finds himself just nodding his head. Time to be brave, time to just do it. If he doesn’t do it now, he never will.

Yann helps him draft the text.

**Lucas (13:14):**

_ hey sorry it’s taken me so long to respond _

_ are you free tomorrow? the café by the park, 16:00? _

It only takes a minute for Eliott to text him back, but Lucas’ hands are shaking as he and Yann stare down at the screen, the anxiety building when the three dots appear.

**DO NOT ANSWER (13:15):**

_ Perfect. See you there. _

–– 

So when Lucas sees him again, on a Friday afternoon in February, he waves him over to a table in the back of the café and ignores the way his heart threatens to beat out of his chest. He tightens his grip around the hot mug in front of him, feeling the way the liquid burns through the ceramic so that the pain in his hands matches the fire raging in his core.

Eliott nods and quickly orders, grabbing the cup as soon as the barista sets it down. He makes his way over to Lucas and Lucas takes the time to look him over, really look at him. 

Eliott looks the same, but different too. He’s still wearing dark colors and that damn black jacket and his hair is still a mess, but his eyes that always stormed like the sea seem sadder and he carries himself with a little more tension in his shoulders, as if trying to compact his body down and make himself less noticeable.

But how every person isn’t drawn to Eliott, isn’t staring as he makes his way past, Lucas will never understand.

And then finally, Lucas is sitting in the corner of a café with his back to the wall, clutching at a coffee that is much too hot to drink, and Eliott is there, sitting across from him. It feels inevitable.

“Hey,” Lucas says. And there’s that word again.

“Lucas,” Eliott replies. 

There’s silence as they look at each other, allow themselves to look, allow themselves to acknowledge that half the reason they’re both here is just that they needed to see each other.

“I see you’ve had time to recover,” Eliott says, and Lucas can tell he’s trying to break the tension, but there’s real concern there, hidden beneath the sarcasm.

“Yeah,” Lucas says. “The hangover was pretty rough.”

Eliott lets out a small laugh. “I can imagine.”

“How about you?” Lucas’ voice comes out cold as images of Eliott and the other boy flash through his head. “I saw you at the party.”

“Ah, Imane said you might have seen,” Eliott says, shifting guiltily in his chair. “Look, it didn’t mean anything Lucas, really.” He pauses, frowning. Lucas wonders why he’s trying to justify himself to Lucas of all people. “Is that why you called?”

Lucas squirms, but can’t help that he feels a little lighter knowing the boy isn’t anyone to Eliott. “No,” he says quickly. “Well yes and no. It was more the seeing you again than anything else.”

They’re silent for a moment and Eliott is just looking at him, so Lucas goes on.

“But I do want to apologize for calling you like that,” Lucas says, his cheeks flushing red. “That, uh, was not one of my proudest moments.”

“It’s okay, Lucas.” Eliott smiles. Lucas melts.

“No, it’s not.” Lucas plays with the handle of his mug, chancing a glance up at Eliott. “I mean, I did want to talk to you, but you deserve more than a drunken phone call.”

“Maybe,” Eliott says, and he hasn’t taken his eyes off Lucas since he sat down. Lucas had almost forgotten what it was like to be looked at like that. “But I would have been okay with anything honestly. It was just good to hear from you. I haven’t heard from you in a long time.”

“I know.”

Eliott is still staring at him but then he sighs, leaning back in his seat, rubbing his neck. “I tried, you know? I really tried. But you never responded. I missed you, Lucas. I still miss you.”

Lucas clenches his jaw as the words hit him because it’s not fair, it’s really not fair for Eliott to say that and not mean it. At least not the way Lucas means it. “You can’t keep saying that.”

Because Eliott has said it before, or, at least, he’s sent it. The first text came two weeks after they broke up, late at night on a Sunday when Lucas was staring down another week without Eliott, still crying into his pillow every night. _ I miss you _, typed out and mocking him on the screen, sent from Eliott to Lucas with such a careless disregard for Lucas’ heart that he felt it break again.

He hadn’t been able to bring himself to respond, showing Yann as soon as he saw him in the morning. Yann had taken one look at the text, sighed, and changed Eliott’s contact from _ Eli _ to _ DO NOT ANSWER _ and Lucas had nearly started crying again.

_ But he’s reaching out _, Lucas had protested, clinging to the last bit of hope that Eliott might have realized his mistake. 

_ It’s not good enough _ , Yann had said. _ He needs to do more if he’s serious about it. _And Lucas knew Yann was right, but to feel his hope splinter again, made Lucas hope Eliott never tried to reach out again. He wasn’t sure he could take it. 

(Eliott hadn’t heard that silent plea though apparently, because three more messages came in over the course of the next two months, all saying similar things. Lucas hadn’t shown anyone, then, but hadn’t been able to respond either. He wished Eliott would stop stretching it out, stop making Lucas heart race every time he got a little lonely, and eventually Eliott had. And then Lucas found himself wishing that his phone would ping again.)

But now, in the café, hearing Eliott say it again, to hear those words said again like it means something, Lucas wants to scream.

Now that Lucas knows that every pang in his chest at the sight of Eliott’s name, every time his mouth went dry at the sight of those words, the dull ache that never left, was his heart’s way of saying _ I love you _ even when he wouldn’t let himself think it, maybe it hurts worse.

Lucas thinks if that boy sitting there meant it the way he does, _ I miss you _ actually meaning _ I love you _, he could have done something about it. But he didn’t.

“It’s true,” Eliott says, simply. “Why did you never respond?”

“I couldn’t,” Lucas says. It’s the truth, poorly explained.

“Why?”

“It hurt too much,” Lucas says, blinking away tears prickling at the corner of his vision. He has to hold it together. “So I tried to stop thinking about you. To try and move on.”

“Did it work?” Eliott asks, his voice small.

“What do you think?” The words land sharply. Lucas means the venom he spits. It helps him feel better for a moment, but it’s fleeting.

Eliott sighs and shifts uncomfortably in his chair. He hasn’t touched his drink. “I’m sorry,” he says, and then he pauses. “I’m sorry about a lot of things.”

Lucas can’t help the way he can suddenly feel his pulse, the way his face grows hot. It’s the first apology he’s heard slip past Eliott’s lips and he’s unprepared for what it feels like. “What things?” Lucas asks, because he needs to know, he’s always needed to know.

“Like everything from the moment I said we should break up.”

Lucas chokes and he can’t help the way he’s staring at Eliott, in disbelief.

“What the fuck, Eliott!” Lucas nearly shouts, anger building, slowly replacing the sadness. “You really can’t keep saying things like that, it’s not fair.”

Eliott looks just as near tears as Lucas feels. “I know,” he whispers. “But it’s the truth.”

Neither of them say anything as a moment passes, and then two. And despite everything, despite how Lucas has fought it, he feels hope begin to blossom in his chest. But he needs to know. He needs to understand.

“So?” Lucas asks, and the momentary burst of anger has left his voice ragged and shallow. “What happened? I mean, when did we go from us to that? What did I do?”

Eliott chews on his cheek and Lucas sees his shell cracking, the nervousness seeping through. “It’s nothing you did Lucas,” he says. “Or, at least, there isn’t a moment.”

“That makes it sound like it’s definitely something I did.”

“No,” Eliott says, firmly, looking at Lucas like he needs him to know. “Maybe there were things bothering me, but I should have talked to you about it. In the end, it was more about me than you.”

Lucas just looks at him, urging him to go on, and he feels a little nauseous because he’s been wishing for this conversation for _ months _, but he’s still not sure he’s prepared.

Eliott goes on. “It’s just that you were so busy with school and everything. And it’s not your fault, but I felt like such a failure. I mean, I had no direction. I was trying to work just to make money so that I could be near you and then you kept asking about art school and I knew you were trying to be supportive but I just kept feeling like I was letting you down.”

Lucas thinks back to that, to their last few months. It had been hard for Eliott, he knew, when he first tried his hand at university. After struggling with high school, and having to repeat his last year, Lucas had always known Eliott’s confidence was a little shaken. He’d done one semester at a university, unsure of what he wanted to pursue, but he’d hated it and it had been hard on him. So he stopped, took a break to figure out his next move. 

When Lucas graduated and decided to go to university for pre-med, Eliott mentioned that maybe he’d look into art school. So Lucas had sort of latched onto that, trying to be as supportive as possible, trying to make sure Eliott knew he could do anything he wanted. But now, looking at the sad curve of Eliott’s eyes, hearing the hitch in his voice, Lucas can see how maybe that all felt like pressure.

“You weren’t letting me down,” Lucas says, softly, restraining himself from grabbing Eliott’s hand. “I just wanted you to know I believed in you.”

“I know. But you wanted an explanation, and this is it. I’m not claiming that it makes sense,” Eliott says, his eyes training themselves on the floor next to Lucas’ seat. Lucas is afraid to move, desperate for Eliott to go on, to give him more. Eliott swallows harshly and continues. 

“All I could see was my boyfriend taking everything that had gone wrong and turning it into something good. And there I was, in the same place as the year before and I couldn’t find my _ thing _. There’s so much pressure, you know, to have grand plans, to have something that you’re working for, but everything I tried just kept falling apart. I felt like I was ruining everything I touched. And then there you were.”

Lucas feels a hot tear escape down his cheek and he quickly wipes it away. He aches to reach out and hold Eliott, like he used to.

“You were doing so well and I became convinced that one day you were going to wake up and realize that you were too good for me. That I was holding you back,” Eliott says, his voice shaking. “I tried to talk to you about it, but you were stressed and your mom had been having a rough time and we started arguing. And I convinced myself you were getting ready to move on.”

“Eliott…” Lucas tries.

“No, let me finish,” Eliott says, taking a deep breath. “So when we were sitting there, and you wouldn’t look at me, I made a stupid decision. I told myself that if you loved me, you would fight for me and that if you were getting ready to leave me anyway, then it wouldn’t matter. So I said we should break up. And you just said _ okay _. You didn’t even try to fight it. And all I could think was that I managed to leave you before you left me.”

Lucas feels like the wind has been knocked out of him.

“I regretted it. Almost immediately.” Eliott says, looking up at Lucas again. There’s something braver now, in his eyes. “All I could think about was how stupid I was, how much of an idiot I’d been. So I tried to reach out. But you wouldn’t respond to any of my messages and I took it as a sign.”

Lucas knows what it’s like when your heart breaks. His has shattered – been crushed – first by his father, and then by Eliott. But, now, sitting in a café across from the boy who used to make him feel alive, his heart breaks in a new way. The kind of breaking when you realize someone you love has been fighting demons that you didn’t even notice were there. And there’s guilt too, that somehow, in the cacophony around him, Lucas had missed this – a quiet call for help.

“You never told me you felt like that,” Lucas says finally, weakly.

“I didn’t know how to say it.” Eliott’s eyes are red, his cheeks wet. “You were getting everything you always wanted. I didn’t want to drag you down with me.”

Lucas looks at Eliott, and wonders how they got so off-track, how Eliott couldn’t see how much he meant to Lucas. “For the record, you were always what I wanted.”

And maybe the longing has lessened slightly, now that Lucas has some kind of answer, something to point to. But the pain is still there, and it's a pain that Eliott caused. It’s good, Lucas thinks, to know where he went wrong. But Lucas knows there are some things he still needs to say, some things Eliott needs to hear too. Because, as is often the case, neither of them is blameless.

“I am sorry, Eliott, that I didn’t see what was going on.” Lucas sighs. “And I’m sorry if I did anything that made you feel like you couldn’t talk to me about it. But I need you to know how much you hurt me when you left like that.” 

And there it is, finally, the sharp sting surfacing. “I mean, I told you how scared I was of people leaving, how everyone had left, and then you still did it. Without telling me why. Without trying to fix it.”

Eliott looks at him, regret marking up his perfect face. “It was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done,” he says. “And I am so sorry. For everything. I miss you, Lucas.”

This time the _ I miss you _ sounds different to Lucas’ ears. And since they’re telling the truth today, Lucas can’t stop himself. “I miss you too, Eliott. So much.” His voice is quiet. The words are strong.

Eliott smiles softly, a quiet moment just for him.

But sitting there, feeling his heart soar, looking into Eliott’s sad eyes, Lucas knows that this is a moment for healing. And it’s overwhelming really, just how much letting go of that anger, letting it slowly fade away, is doing for his gentle heart. The heart that was never meant to bear the brunt of other people’s mistakes and yet has, all the same.

“Are you okay?” Eliott asks then, and Lucas realizes he hasn’t said anything for the past few moments, too lost in his own head. Eliott’s hand makes an aborted movement toward where Lucas’ rest on the table, but he seems to think better and pulls back.

Lucas notices. “Yeah, yeah I am,” he says, reaching out and catching Eliott’s hand in his own. And there it is, the familiar roughness, the callus on his fourth finger from how he holds a pencil, but the touch doesn’t send nervousness coursing through Lucas’ arm. Instead it feels like coming home.

“And you?” Lucas asks, tilting his head as he takes in Eliott’s flushed cheeks and the way he’s trying to both look at Lucas and hide the emotions flashing on his face. “Are you okay?”

Eliott pauses for a moment, and Lucas sees something spark in that deep gray-green storm in his eyes. “I will be.”

They stay resting in their chairs, just looking at each other, for a few more minutes. Their hands stay clasped across the table and Lucas revels in the fact that he can look at Eliott’s face without feeling physical pain. 

Eventually they stand to leave, go their separate ways, but it lacks finality. As Eliott turns towards the door, he stops suddenly, spinning around on the spot and grabbing Lucas, wrapping him in a frantic embrace. Lucas feels himself lean into Eliott’s warmth immediately, relaxing under the familiar touch that he’s craved for months. That’s all it is, warm arms around his shoulders, Eliott’s face tucked into his hair, and it feels even better than Lucas remembered.

It’s quick, the embrace, barely there and then gone again. But Eliott’s face as he pulls away, as he whispers _ I’ll see you _, as he turns to leave, is enough to keep Lucas warm long after Eliott has left. And the ache in Lucas’ chest is fading.

And so, in the end, it’s undramatic but necessary – that day when they meet again in the quiet corner of a café on a February afternoon. And even though it’s supposed to be the closure Lucas needs, it feels more like a beginning than an ending.

–– 

The next morning Lucas awakes feeling more well-rested than he has in months. From the way the sun is fighting through his curtains, he knows it’s late. But it’s Saturday, and Lucas has no plans, so he lets himself lay there, sinking into the comfortable warmth of his blankets.

He lets his mind wander and, as it so often does, it drifts to Eliott. Only this time, Lucas doesn’t feel the sharp pang beneath his ribs, doesn’t have to force himself to think of something, anything, else. Instead, he revels in his memories, Eliott’s face etching itself on the backs of his eyelids.

Eliott’s smile when Lucas says he missed him. The feel of Eliott’s hands in his own. The press of Eliott’s chest and the warmth of his arms wrapped around him again. Lucas can’t help the smile that spreads across his face. He laughs to himself and buries his face into his pillow. He hopes Eliott is thinking of him too.

He realizes then that he wants to talk to Eliott again, he needs to hear from him, needs to know if things have changed in the light. He looks over towards his desk where his phone is plugged in, debating if he should text Eliott.

His room is slightly messy, his shoes kicked in the corner, an empty mug on his desk, his coat strewn across the back of his chair from where he had haphazardly thrown it the night before.

And then he notices the folded piece of paper lying on the ground by the legs of his chair, as if it had fallen out of the pocket of his coat.

His heart picks up the pace and he leaps from his bed with such enthusiasm he almost falls from being tangled up in his sheets.

He nearly runs across his room, kneeling to pick up the square of paper, and he can’t help but feel a little lightheaded in the anticipation. Because Lucas recognizes it. Eliott had used this tactic before when he couldn’t find the words to explain himself in person. It’s Eliott’s way of reaching out when he’s afraid of being hurt.

Hands trembling, Lucas gently unfolds the paper and smooths it out, taking in the lines drawn there.

It’s a drawing, like the ones Eliott used to make for him. A raccoon and a hedgehog. Lucas hasn’t seen them drawn together in so long that he almost starts crying right there. He thinks about the other drawings Eliott has given him tucked safely in the bottom drawer of his desk. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to look at them since they broke up, but he couldn’t throw them away either. Now he’s infinitely glad he didn’t.

In the drawing, there are two panels, both with a racoon and a hedgehog sitting in a café. In the first panel, the hedgehog and the racoon sit across from each other, the racoon looking visibly distressed. Underneath the caption reads: _ Eliott n.25473 missed his chance. _

In the second panel, the hedgehog and the racoon are sitting on the same side of the table, arms around each other, a heart drawn neatly between them. The caption reads: _ Eliott n.36542 was brave enough to fight for you. _

Lucas feels his legs go numb and suddenly every touch, every look runs through Lucas’ head like fire. This, the drawing in his hands, is proof that Eliott hasn’t moved on either, has been harboring hope like Lucas close to his chest. It’s his way of reaching out, of saying _ here is what I can offer, please take it _ . And Lucas wants to, _ oh _ he wants to. 

And then every reason why he shouldn’t is running through his head – the pain, the heartbreak, the feeling like he was drowning in something he’d never be able to get out of. But there, at the end of it, at the end of all of it, is Eliott. And Lucas knows that despite the past year, he’d do all again as long as it meant he’d get to know life with Eliott in it.

He’s suddenly frantic then, because it’s been hours, almost a full day since Eliott placed that note in Lucas’ jacket pocket and he’s only just noticed it _ now _. Maybe Eliott has already given up, has already decided that Lucas doesn’t want to take that leap again, and then all Lucas can think about is getting to Eliott.

Because here’s the thing that’s been bothering Lucas, running through his mind since Eliott and him parted the afternoon before. It’s nagging at him because he realizes there’s a mistake he’s made that he wants the chance to remedy. It’s Eliott, with his sad eyes and quiet voice saying _ I told myself that if you loved me, you would fight for me _. Because Lucas should have fought for him, should not have let Eliott walk out that door without so much as a discussion.

It’s not that Lucas wouldn’t have let Eliott go if that’s really what he wanted. But Lucas can’t help but think that if he’d only pushed a little, prodded at the reason Eliott was trying to leave a little more, they wouldn’t have had to face a year apart. 

But now is not the time for regrets. All Lucas lets himself think is _ Eliott _ and how quickly he can get to him, how quickly he can stand there in front of him and be brave enough for the both of them. To do what he needs to do to get them to where they’ll both be happy.

Because with this drawing, it’s like Eliott had put his heart on the line, offering it up to be broken again. He’s been brave. And maybe Lucas is already too late, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try.

So Lucas sprints to the bathroom, washing the sleep from his eyes and brushing the staleness from his mouth, pausing to comb his hair because he can’t help but feeling like he needs to put _ some _ effort in to win back the love of his life.

He folds the drawing carefully and places it back into his pocket. And then he’s hopping into his jeans, pulling on a sweater and then his jacket and scarf and bolting out the door while he’s still trying to tie his shoes.

He steps out into the frosty winter, but for the first time in a long time, the cold doesn’t sting.

–– 

And so it goes like this: Lucas is running, running faster than he probably ever has before. 

(And maybe it’s a little funny that he’s running again for Eliott, but he would do it over and over if it means he gets to be with the boy at the end.) 

He stopped, only once, because there was a nice shop with beautiful flowers in the window that reminded him of Eliott and then he’s running again.

Soon he’s in front of Eliott’s building and his breath is coming quickly and he’s trying to calm down before he faces him. He contemplates buzzing Eliott to let him up, but he really doesn’t want to ruin the romantic gesture he literally just ran for so he begs to some spiritual entity to help him out.

Luck seems to be on his side, because someone is leaving and Lucas is rushing through the door and up the stairs until he’s standing, for the first time in over a year, in front of Eliott’s apartment.

He thought he’d be nervous, standing there like that, hand poised to knock against the dark wood. But he’s not, not really. This was inevitable. They always have been.

He raps sharply on the door. 

When the door opens, all Lucas can see is Eliott’s eyes grow wide as they flick between Lucas’ face and the flowers in his hands. And Lucas can see that Eliott is cautious, unsure of what’s going on, because he hasn’t heard from Lucas in almost 24 hours.

“Hey,” Lucas says.

They stand in silence for a moment and Lucas can’t help the wide smile that breaks across his face as he looks at Eliott – the boy with black t-shirts and messy hair and ink-stained hands. _ His _ boy.

Finally, Eliott speaks. “What are you doing here?”

“Fighting for you,” Lucas says, his voice loud and clear and strong. “I’m trying to be brave.”

Eliott looks at Lucas a fire sparking in his eyes, but the caution is still there. “What about Oliver?”

And Oliver, well, Lucas has to stop himself from laughing out loud because he’d completely forgotten about Oliver. It had been so far removed from his mind that he’d even forgotten to bring it up when he saw Eliott the day before. The last Eliott heard, Lucas still had a boyfriend. 

“Oh, Eliott, we broke up,” Lucas says, not trying to hide the smile that can’t seem to leave his face now that he’s standing there looking at Eliott, allowing himself to love Eliott and allowing himself to hope he loves him back.

“You broke up?” Eliott’s voice is quiet, but Lucas catches the hint of hope in the words. It’s the brief, flickering stuff he’s been harboring in his heart for a year.

“Yeah,” Lucas says, stepping closer to Eliott in the doorframe. “You want to know why?” he whispers, standing so close to Eliott now that Lucas is forced to look up to meet his eyes.

“Why?” Eliott murmurs.

“Because he thought I was still in love with you,” Lucas says, and he hears Eliott’s sharp intake of breath. “And you know what? He was right.”

“Oh yeah?” And then Eliott can’t hold back his smile anymore and it only grows wider as Lucas pulls out the drawing from his pocket and shows it to Eliott as if to say _ I got your message _.

Eliott reaches out a hand to trace Lucas’ cheekbone and Lucas feels himself leaning into the touch. “Well that’s good, because I’m still in love with you too.”

And then Eliott is cupping Lucas’ jaw and drawing him close and his touch is like a trigger to Lucas’ heart and it feels like it’s restarting, finding the rhythm it lost when Eliott left. Lucas leans towards Eliott and then their lips are meeting and it’s not the first time, definitely not the first time, but it feels new all the same. 

It’s tentative at first, like Eliott isn’t quite sure that this is his for the taking, but then Lucas is wrapping his arms around Eliott’s waist and tilting his head to deepen the kiss. Eliott gasps into Lucas’ mouth as they find themselves again, because they’ve done this before, but now it’s them beginning again, wiping the slate clean of the sad history they’ve carried around. 

They stagger back into the apartment and Eliott breaks the kiss to close the door behind them. Lucas, unable to be separated from Eliott now that he’s just gotten him back, latches onto Eliott’s jaw and then his neck, kissing him gently on his exposed skin. Eliott laughs and Lucas thinks it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. 

And then their lips are on each other again and the kiss is sweet and comfortable but also strong. Lucas feels Eliott everywhere – the way his lips are pressed against Lucas’, the way his fingers caress his cheek, the way his arm wraps around his neck. He holds Lucas like he’s afraid of letting go. But that’s okay, because Lucas never wants him to.

“I want to try this again,” Eliott manages between their kisses. “I love you. I never stopped loving you. I can’t imagine my life without you.”

Lucas feels his heart soar, his hope thundering as it turns into the real thing.

“Eliott,” he gasps, Eliott’s lips finding the place just below Lucas’ ear. “I want that too. I love you too. I want you, in whatever way you’ll have me.”

Eliott is smiling and laughing and kissing Lucas’ face all over, any place he can reach.

“I want to be with you,” he says. “I want us to be together.”

“Together,” Lucas repeats, and so something new starts and something old continues.

And there will be talking later, plenty of it, because Lucas is determined to never let anything like the past year happen again. There will be discussions of logistics and moving forward and what they need from each other. But right now, in the golden haze of Eliott’s apartment, Lucas just wants to kiss Eliott, to hold him, and know that Eliott wants him too. It’s intoxicating, being desired, especially by the one person you’ve been longing for.

And even though Lucas will never admit it, there’s something, he thinks, to the idea that someone could share your soul, could be made of so much of that same stuff that it hurts to be away. Because the minute Eliott is his again, the ache in his chest disappears and he can breathe again.

And so it starts like this – on a bright Saturday afternoon in the middle of February, thirteen months, one week and five days after they broke up – Lucas and Eliott find each other again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for sticking with me on this! hope you enjoyed the ending <3
> 
> find me on tumblr [@lallemanting](https://lallemanting.tumblr.com/)
> 
> kudos & comments are always appreciated!


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